


One Question

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn's perspective of Marianne and Roland's doomed relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Question

**Author's Note:**

> This movie and it's fandom are the best thing to ever happen in the history of forever!!! Love 'em so much! As promised, 100 hits on my last story, so here's a new one! Enjoy!

Contrary to what a certain sword swinging fairy princess once believed, Dawn was _never_ as naïve about love as one would think.

Barring fashion, Dawn had always looked up to her older sister.  Marianne was smart and loving and her dorky, clumsy playfulness made it easy for the younger princess to build a strong and healthy relationship with her from infancy.  Sure, every now and then they’d squabble like ordinary siblings, but when your sister is also one of your best friends, the fights are trivial and short-lived.

Dawn loved Marianne dearly, even if she didn’t always understand her.  She would never be able to fathom her big sister’s propensity to run and fly wild through the Fairy Kingdom grass, getting sticks in her hair and her pretty dresses all torn and filthy.  She also didn’t get Marianne’s long-time fascination with establishing diplomacy with the dreaded Dark Forest once she assumed the throne. 

For the most part, Dawn took it all in stride with a shake of her blonde head.  Marianne was just an odd one.  It was as simple as that.

And then Roland came along and things got… _complicated_.

Of course Dawn had been just as swept away by the dashing young solider as the rest of the female population at their first meeting, almost four whole years ago.  It was at the retirement gala for old Bradley, the former captain of the guard.  Roland had been summoned from the northern region as his successor. 

He had strutted into the ballroom like Apollo incarnate; grinning and winking all over the place with his emerald colored armor shining to an almost blinding degree. 

But everybody was already blinded in a _different_ way.

Great Skies!  He was _so_ good-looking!

She hadn’t been able to think clearly then, but looking back on that evening now, Dawn remembered that Roland’s bow had been stiff and abrupt when he’d presented himself to the royal family.  Such a lack of decorum, no matter how indistinct, would have cost him his station in a heartbeat. 

Perhaps, then they could’ve avoided all the trouble that soon followed. 

What Dawn _had_ noticed right away, was the change in Marianne. 

Before her transformation, if Dawn had to choose one word to describe her big sister, she would’ve gone with: _sensible_.  Marianne knew when and where to be dignified and mature.  She was by no means a stick in the mud, but her serious moments far outweighed her silliness when it came to social gatherings.

Apparently, all of that had flown out the window the second her eyes beheld the deceptive glory that was Roland. 

Never had Dawn seen her sister speechless!  Never had she heard her stutter!

She should have paid closer attention.  Then she would have recognized that the look Roland had given Marianne, was less keen courtship interest and more predator locking onto easy prey.

But honestly, Dawn had been more preoccupied with the… _extra_ odd way her sister was acting.  She had bitten her lip in embarrassment as she watched a smitten Marianne trip over the hem of her gown as Roland led her onto the dancefloor for the first waltz. 

At the time, Dawn was still too young for dances, but she had loitered around behind the pillars for a few hours, desperately hoping to catch a few more glimpses of her sister in the arms of the new fairy hunk. 

The gossip was as she’d expected…

_Ooh, he’s danced every dance with her!_

_The princess seems quite taken with him!_

_I hear he’s quite the ladies’ man!_

_Isn’t he handsome?!_

_We’ll have wedding announcements in a year’s time!  Mark my words!_

_He’ll make an extraordinary king!_

Dawn had snorted at the mention of a wedding.  Although she, herself, loved to dream of _that_ particular event in her distant future, she doubted that Marianne would even _consider_ such a thing in such a short amount of time.  No matter how _taken_ she appeared to be.   

Such feelings were challenged not ten minutes later, when she’d heard her sister’s voice approaching the other side of the pillar.  Dawn had peeked around to see Roland and Marianne taking a short break and enjoying a glass of punch. 

Well…Roland was anyway.  Marianne had been too busy mooning at him to take any sips.

Thinking quickly, Dawn had directed a nearby pixie handmaiden to discreetly remove the goblet from her sister’s limp fingers before she made a mess of another perfectly clean skirt.

But going back to the mooning; _that_ was another unusual addition to Marianne’s behavior.  Dawn had never seen that expression on her sister’s face before…and…there was something…off-putting about it. 

Not that Dawn wasn’t familiar with that kind of look.  Heck, she’d made it herself countless times when either thinking, or in the presence, of one of her many crushes. 

Still…on Marianne…it had just looked… _wrong_ for some reason. 

Sadly, Dawn had been just a child at the time, so she’d assumed that her discomfort was simply because this was new, coming from Marianne, and new could be…unsettling. 

She’d stayed a bit longer to eavesdrop, but wound up leaving out of boredom from Roland’s stories.  There were only so many ‘I-slayed-this-kind-of-beast’ tales one could hear before they began to sound kind of repetitive and… _embellished_. 

She’d have more fun playing in the garden with Sunny.

Her first impression?  

Roland was perhaps lacking in etiquette and a tad self-absorbed, but he was absolutely, drop-dead _gorgeous_ and that pretty much made up for it. 

Almost.

Later that night, after the guests had been dismissed and it was time for fairy princesses to be getting ready for bed, Marianne had come twirling into her chambers, ‘la-la-la’-ing like a songbird. 

Dawn had waited up for her, as per the norm after a ball, eager to discuss the goings on she’d witnessed and/or missed.

In a peculiarly high pitched voice, Marianne had gone on and on about Roland.  It was mostly just a rehash of what Dawn had already overheard, with a few extra tidbits about his peerless leadership skills, his faithful squirrel, Chipper, and his hair…

…maybe _tidbit_ wasn’t the right descriptive for _that_. 

One thing was for sure though, Dawn had _never_ seen Marianne like this.  Bouncing and flitting around the room, dazed and sparking like a bush fire.  It was…intense and…kinda _weird_. 

Was Marianne really in love?

But that wasn’t the question that had escaped Dawn’s lips.  Instead, what came out was:

“Are you happy, Marianne?”

She wasn’t sure why she’d asked that.  It seemed a downright ridiculous question.  Anyone with eyes could see that Marianne looked like she was about to burst into a squealing cloud of primrose petals and glitter; but something had compelled her to, nonetheless. 

She _had_ to know.

And then came Marianne’s reply…or more specifically, the _way_ she replied. 

She’d sort of snorted out a laugh and her face scrunched up in amused confusion as if Dawn had just spoken a foreign language in a funny voice rather than a significant question. 

“Wha-?  What are you talking about, Dawn?  Of _course_ I’m happy!  Don’t I _look_ happy?”

Yes, but Dawn _did_ see how Marianne’s eyes had flitted around the walls and she was waving her arms around a lot. 

She let it go.

* * *

And so it was for the next couple of years. 

Dawn would see Roland with her sister almost every day.  The guy sure knew how to lay on the charm.  Tossing long winded compliments off his tongue left and right.  Calling Marianne every pet name in existance.  Showering the royal family with gifts and other trinkets.  Never once failing to attend every feast and ball that he was invited to, and making sure Marianne was on his arm the whole time. 

For the most part, Dawn hung on his every word and gesture, same as Marianne and their father, but every once in a while, something would give her pause. 

A few weeks after that first meeting, for instance, she’d happened upon her sister and Roland finishing lunch in the private garden and caught the tail-end of their conversation. 

“I’m jus’ sayin’, my little Buttercup, I think yer hair’s as cute as button, but maybe it’d look more _feminine_ if ya grew it out.” 

“Oh…you really think so?  Well…maybe…”

Dawn had been stunned by the comment. 

Just who did he think he was, implying that Marianne’s hairstyle was unfeminine?  Dawn kept her hair short too!  Sure, her sister’s hair was more wispy and flyaway than her own smooth and voluminous locks, but it was hardly an unpopular cut.  It was practical!  It was low maintenance!  Lots of fairy women wore their hair this way. 

Like their mother, for one.  Heaven rest her soul.

Roland had bid a hasty retreat once Dawn stepped into the clearing and made her presence known.  Apart from public events, he seemed to do that a lot once anyone else joined his and Marianne’s company. 

Marianne had waved half-heartedly at her sister as she took Roland’s place at the table.  With her other hand, she forlornly touched a few strands of her wild, brown hair.

“Dawn, do you think I should grow out my-?”

“It’s _fine_ just the way it is, Marianne.  We both styled our hair in honor of mom, remember?”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess you’re right.  Nothing wrong with at least _considering_ trying something new.  And he _did_ say that he thought my hair was as cute as a button, anyway.  Roland’s so sweet and thoughtful.”

…

…

“Are you happy, Marianne?”

“Huh?  Oh.  Yes, Dawn, yes I’m happy.” 

A forkful of salad in Marianne’s mouth ended the topic that day.

* * *

A handful of months passed, and on the night of the Summer Solstice Ball, Dawn had been lounging on the sill of her bedroom window, when she heard voices coming from the balcony one floor below. 

“Ya really should start wearin’ brighter colors, darlin’.  Don’t ya wanna look good standin’ next to me?”

“Well…yes, of course I do, it’s just…what’s wrong with the colors I normally wear?”

“Nuthin’!  Nuthin’, sweetheart!  It’s jus’ that yer hair and eyes are already so…so _dark_ , ya should…balance it out.  I mean, ya _are_ a _fairy_ , my Marianne.  We love the _light._   Ya jus’ don’t wanna go _too_ dark, is all I mean.  Dark is fer goblins.” 

“You’re saying I…I look like a _goblin_?”

“Nooooo, precious!  Ya look like yer supposed to!  Ya look like a princess!  Ya jus’ could use a little sprucin’, that’s all.  Now gimme a kiss, hummin’ bird!”

Two hours later, Dawn was sitting on Marianne’s bed, twiddling her fingers as her sister tore through her closet, tossing her clothes into ‘keep’ and ‘burn’ piles. 

The younger princess had felt like such a hypocrite. 

Fashion had always been a point of contention between the two siblings.  Dawn had constantly fussed over Marianne’s poor ability to take care of her outfits, as well as her preference for shadier tones.  In arguments past, Dawn herself, had even used Roland’s reasoning. 

Dark was for goblins.  They lived in the _Dark_ Forest for a reason.

Still, she knew that Marianne _liked_ her clothes and to a certain degree, she respected her big sister’s confidence and determination to wear whatever she wanted. 

But one word from Roland, and suddenly Marianne had recruited Dawn to help her with an entire wardrobe overhaul. 

She should’ve been happy; finally allowed to be Marianne’s fashion consultant and get rid of some of those *shudder* hideous olive colored frocks…but…something didn’t feel right about it. 

“How about this one?  Do you think Roland likes it?”

“Marianne, Roland doesn’t have to _wear_ it.”

“You know what I mean!  Should I hold onto it or not?”

“Do _you_ like it?”

“I…I asked if you think _Roland_ likes it!”

“Who cares if _he_ likes it or not?!  He should like _you_ in whatever _you_ wear!”

“He just wants me to look my best, Dawn!  Isn’t that what _you’ve_ always wanted?”

“I-!  Well, _yes_ , but that’s not-!  I mean, I’ve never-!  Marianne I-”

“Look, are you going to help me with this or not?!”

Unable to find the words to properly explain her reservations, Dawn gave up with a sigh and grabbed the top Marianne had been displaying for judgement.

It was a sleeveless, high-collared tunic.  The deep rose pink color had faded a bit with age and bled into green at the layered hems.  

“Keep it.”  Dawn said, dropping it onto the appropriate pile.  “It was mom’s.”

After that, it hadn’t taken long to sort through the rest, and once the ‘burn’ pile was blazing away in the hearth, Dawn couldn’t help asking again.

“Are you happy, Marianne?”

“Yes, I’m happy, Dawn.  Don’t worry.”

The two princesses had watched the fire until it turned to ash.

* * *

Less than a week later, Dawn had come upon Marianne in the armory, placing something long and thin in a box. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just some reorganizing.”

Ever the curious one, Dawn had peered inside the box, only to gape in surprise as she saw Marianne’s sword nestled in the velvet lining. 

“You’re getting rid of your _sword_?!”

Now _this_ was bizarre.  That sword had been left to Marianne in their mother’s will. 

Though neither daughter remembered the woman very well, for she had died when they were both quite young, it was common knowledge that the former queen was exceptionally talented in the art of combat.  She had come from a family with extensive military background and was said to have been a tough and wise ruler. 

Marianne had treasured the weapon and liked to practice with it, when she had the time.  She was still far from proficient, but her enthusiasm for the skill was undeniable. 

“I’m not getting rid of it, Dawn.”  The brunette said, shutting the lid.  “I’m just putting it away for now.”

“Why?”

“Well…I’ve been doing some thinking and…I don’t really _need_ it.  I have Roland now and he’ll protect me.  Besides, he…he said it’s not very _ladylike_ for a princess to carry around something so dangerous.”

Dawn had quirked a slightly confused eyebrow. 

It wasn’t _entirely_ untrue, since most weapons _were_ carried by soldiers who also, were mostly _male_.  However, there were a few female fairies and even elves that carried swords, daggers or staffs around every day, and some of them weren’t even _in_ the military! 

The custom had been on the decline since the death of their mother.  Everyone’s attitude about traditional gender roles had been a lot more open minded then.       

It seemed like such a waste.  Marianne had taken very good care of that sword for years; always making sure it was razor sharp and polished to a silvery gleam.

Regardless, Dawn had kept her mouth shut as her sister placed the box on a shelf in a storage closet and locked it up tight. 

“Are you happy, Marianne?” She had asked as they walked down the hall together, away from the armory.

Marianne had quietly sighed before responding.

“Yep.”

* * *

The next happenstance took place after a whole year had gone by. 

Marianne had brought Dawn with her to visit Roland at the military training grounds.  He was taking a break with his three soldier buddies when they’d arrived.  Everyone got to talking and all seemed to be going well, until the subject of the Dark Forest came up. 

Now Dawn had never been a big fan of the place either.  It was big, scary and forbidden.  Still, Roland and his friends sure held some… _harsh_ opinions about it. 

They’d all seemed to agree that the best course of action concerning the goblins’ habitat was somewhere along the lines of leveling and _genocide_.   

As the men faux plotted together, Dawn’s eyes had darted to her sister, knowing that she was about to make a firm rebuttal.  This was an issue Marianne had been passionate about for a long time. 

“I think it’d be better if we tried _talking_ to them.”

The silence that had followed was suffocating…   

…and then it was broken by laughter.

Roland and the triplets were cackling so hard, they had trouble standing upright. 

“I’m _serious_!”  Marianne had tried to argue.  “We haven’t had a _single_ direct conflict with them in over _twenty_ years!  I think now would be a good time to consider-”

“Oh, isn’t she jus’ the most _adorable_ thang ya ever saw?”  Roland had cut in, patting Marianne’s head like she was a toddler.  “Ain’t that jus' like a woman, tryin’ to make nice with everythang?  Well, all that’s jus’ dandy, darlin’, but I thank yer future king would appreciate an idea that _won’t_ get everybody killed.”   

So what if Dawn had never seen the sense in poking one’s nose into the business of goblins?  She had _never_ mocked her sister for believing otherwise! 

The teen princess had wished with all her might that she had said something at that moment.  _Anything_ to defend Marianne and wipe that humiliated flush from her cheeks. 

But she didn’t. 

She didn’t tell Roland that just because he and his cronies didn’t agree with Marianne’s idea, that didn’t give them the right to patronize her; their future queen.

Their future _queen_! 

She also should’ve said that, as _heir_ to the throne, Marianne didn’t _need_ a king to become queen!  When their father passed, Marianne would have every right under the sun to reach out to the Dark Forest, as she so desired. 

But she didn’t.

The conversation moved on.

She didn’t say another word until Roland and his boys had returned to their drills, leaving the sisters alone.

“Are you happy, Marianne?”

“ _Yes_ , Dawn.  You don’t have to keep _asking_ me that.”

* * *

From the very beginning, there were rumors of Roland’s playboy ways.  The looks and whispers were not unlike the crackling legs of cockroaches, skittering around the edges of a sun beam; ever-present, but refusing to be brought into focus. 

Both Marianne and Dawn had heard a thing or two, but there was never any solid evidence to prove such talk.  Unless they’d counted all the flirting he seemed to do to every female member of the fairy race.

Still, the proverbial red flag was ignored time and time again.  All it took was some kisses and honey-coated reassurances from the guy, and Marianne was hooked all over again with a sigh and a swoon; something that was _also_ way out-of-character for her in the pre-Roland era.   

Dawn had always been the kind to give people the benefit of the doubt, so she’d gone along with her sister’s decision to ignore the negative speculations.

However, there had been instances when the chatter fueled the doubt to precarious levels. 

Such instances were more frequent as the relationship neared the two and a half year mark; when Roland started arriving late to dates and public gatherings with unclear excuses. 

It’d come to a head at the Harvest Festival.

Once Roland had arrived, Dawn watched as Marianne marched over and dragged him out to the terrace while everyone else was distracted by the orchestra.  She’d followed behind and hid by one of the curtains framing the door.

“…can’t believe, after all this time, ya don’t _trust_ me!”

“I _do_ trust you, Roland!  I do!  I just wish you’d let me _know_ when you’re going to be late, or at least, tell me _exactly_ what kept you so long.  You’re always so vague.  And all the while, I hear people saying things like-”   

“I am disappointed in you, sugar pie.”

“Wh-what?”

“Listenin’ to a bunch’a idle gossip!  I thought ya were smarter than that!  Yet, ya stand there an’ accuse _me_ of bein’ unfaithful!  I’m gonna go get some wine, and’ when I get back, I hope you’ll be ready to stop actin’ so childish an' apologize!”

Without a care in the world, Roland had strolled back into the castle and Dawn ducked to stay out of sight until he passed her.  

When she was in the clear, Dawn had hurried out to check on Marianne.  She’d found her sister standing eerily still and staring blankly at a spot on the ground. 

Unable to think of anything else to say, Dawn had placed an uncertain hand on her shoulder and asked:

“Are you happy, Marianne?”

“I’m _fine_ , Dawn.”

“…That’s not what I asked you.”

What happened next, Dawn would never forget.

Marianne reared back, out of her little sister’s reach and practically snarled in her face.

“You know what, Dawn?  Why don’t you just mind your own business and stop asking me that _stupid_ question!”

Even after she’d hardened her heart and gone all ‘anti-love’ on the world, Marianne had _never_ snapped at Dawn that way. 

With brimming tears in her eyes, the young princess had flinched away like she’d been bitten. 

Her look of hurt had failed to affect Marianne.  The elder stormed away without as much as a backward glance. 

That night, sadness was swept away by a rush of delightful news when Marianne came bursting into Dawn’s room just after midnight to announce that Roland had proposed to her, and she’d said yes!  

The girlish screaming and bouncing that had ensued, lasted until both fairies were near breathless.

Marianne was a whirlwind; listing off things that needed to be done by the wedding date, set for next spring. 

Dawn had graciously accepted the role of wedding planner, and in the midst of all the excitement, she asked the one question:

“Are you happy, Marianne?”

“Dawn, I feel like I’m gonna _explode_!  Roland’s _perfect_!  He’s beautiful, strong, and so _romantic_!  I love him!  I love him!  I l _ove_ him!  I’ve never been _happier_!  I’m so happy, I could _die_!  I can’t believe it!  I’m getting _married_!!!”

* * *

A winter’s worth of preparations went by and at long last, the big day had arrived.

Dawn had been out of her _mind_ getting everything in order before show-time.  Arranging the flowers, polishing the dancefloor, organizing the guests, going over the song list with the band, haggling with the caterer over his outrageous service price.

…and _most_ important…

Keeping track of the bride!

For the life of her, Dawn just couldn’t get Marianne to sit still!  Every time she’d turned around, her big sister had flown off to somewhere in or outside of the decorated castle, tittering and singing to herself and getting her dress all dusty and her hair re-disheveled. 

Dawn had been at her wits end!

Which was why when she had found Marianne for the tenth and final time that day…she had _failed_ her when it had mattered the most.

_Do you think that Roland…loves me as much as…I love him?_

_Oh, Marianne.  How could he not love you?  You’re so…totally…lovable!_

If there had ever been a better time to ask that one question, _that_ was it.  Perhaps, she could’ve talked Marianne out of the whole thing and spared her the pain of whatever Roland had done to result in the wedding being called off. 

Looks and charm weren’t everything, right?

But by the time Dawn realized what she should’ve said/asked, it was too late and everything had fallen apart. 

Marianne had changed.  She didn’t talk to Dawn or anyone about things anymore; _especially_ feelings.  She became brash, short-tempered, bossy, and her humor turned as dry as a bone.  She avoided dances like the plague.    

The worst part had been the overprotectiveness.  She’d teased Dawn about her crushes with more cynicism than she’d ever used before.  The entire male sex (barring their father) might as well have been a population of dung covered leeches in Marianne’s eyes.

Suddenly, Dawn wasn’t even allowed to hang out with Sunny alone anymore. 

 _Sunny_! 

The elf boy she’d known since her wings had sprouted!   

On the other hand, maybe the Roland incident had done _some_ good.  For one thing, Marianne _was_ standing up for herself, just with extra boldness.  She wore her deep, rich colors with gusto and had started painting her face for good measure.  The sword had come out of that armory with a vengeance and almost every second of Marianne’s spare time was spent training with it. 

Plus, had it not been for Roland and the disaster he’d wrought, Marianne would’ve never met Bog when she did…and it probably would’ve taken longer for Dawn to realize her true feelings for Sunny. 

* * *

Things were so much better _now_. 

Marianne eased way up on the mother-hen persona and, though still fiery, was the fun-loving dork she used to be.

Bog never made any remarks about Marianne’s hair.  In fact, judging from the way he always buried that long nose of his in it, Dawn thought it was safe to assume he loved it just the way it was.

He never said anything about Marianne’s clothes either.  Whenever Dawn would catch them hugging each other, she’d see the way his large hands would firmly stroke up and down her sister’s back and sides, mirroring Marianne’s own movements.  He cared about what was _underneath_.

Dawn supposed it made sense.  After all, how much concern could you have for a few strips of dyed cloth when your own natural skin serves as full body armor?   

Marianne’s sword was always front and center when Bog was around.  The two would spar from dusk ‘til daybreak, if they had the stamina.  Bog’s slightly advanced years gave him a little more experience, which he was more than willing to share with Marianne to help improve her technique.

He asked Marianne’s advice on various matters concerning his kingdom and always listened thoroughly to her suggestions.  She was practically co-ruling the Dark Forest already!  On the _extremely_ rare occasions that they didn’t agree, they’d either discuss the problem until a compromise was reached…or they’d spar and the first one to land a hit got their way.       

Yeah, they were strange like that. 

Bog always did his best to arrive on time for any Fairy Kingdom celebration he was invited to; if he was ever late, you could bet your right wing it was thanks to Griselda either taking forever to doll herself up (because of course she had to come along) or insisting that her son brush his jagged teeth a fourth time.   

If they didn’t ditch the scene completely, Bog and Marianne would spend almost all their time at these kinds of affairs huddled together in a corner, murmuring and snickering to themselves about something or other. 

However, every once in a while, they’d come out hand-in-hand for a dance or two. 

Everyone always gave them a wide berth and some would gawk and sneer in hushed voices about how disgusting and offensive it was for a goblin and a fairy to be courting. 

But Bog and Marianne only had eyes and ears for each other.  The rest of the world could got to rot. 

It was on such a similar occasion, that Dawn found her sister saying goodbye to Bog and his mother at the end of yet another nameless soirée.  Seriously, they threw _way_ too many of these things!

“I’ll see ye tamarrah’ fer training.”  The dark king whispered into Marianne’s ear, squeezing her one last time in their embrace.  “I luv you.”

“Bright and early.”  She confirmed, pulling back to give him a quick kiss.  “I love _you_.  Be safe going back.”

“We will.  Goodnight, Tough Girl.”

He turned to Dawn and gave her a crooked smirk. 

“Goodnight, ye wee beast.”

“Goodnight, Boggy!”  She giggled.  “Thanks for coming!”

“Oh we had a _fabulous_ time!”  Griselda exclaimed, elbowing past her son’s tall legs.  “Thank you for inviting us!  You’re too kind!  I keep telling Bog, we gotta have a big shindig like this in the Dark Forest sometime, but no, he won’t do it!  He’s such a lazy thing!  _You_ should talk him into it, Marianne!  You’re so good at negotiating and planning things out!  You’re gonna make a fantastic queen someday!  I tell ya, you won’t have any trouble becoming an incredible wife and mother too!  Don’t you think so, Bog, honey?  Don’t you think she’ll make a lovely wife and mother?  Don’t you-?  Hey!  What are you-?!  Don’t pick me up while I’m talking, boy!  This about your _future_!  Hey!  Hey!”    

With that, Bog took off into the darkness with his flailing and shouting mom in his arms. 

As Marianne chuckled and watched them go further and further from sight, Dawn asked that one question again, for the last time.

“Are you happy, Marianne?”

The adult princess turned to look at her sister and Dawn very nearly gasped at what she saw. 

With Roland, Marianne’s “happiness” had been like a collection of sparks.  Bright enough to garner attention.  Loud enough with their crackles and pops.  Maybe even lucky enough to burn for a time, but ultimately unstable. 

Sporadic. 

A _façade_. 

One that tried too hard to convince itself and the world that it was real.         

Roland made Marianne’s knees give out.  He made her breath fly away in a rush.  He made her tilt her head in a daydream.  He made her stay silent. 

He made her _weak_.

She made herself _strong_.

Bog made sure she _stayed_ that way.

She stood up _to_ , and _with_ Bog.  She laughed and sang.  She told him about her hopes and dreams about things to come.  She spoke her mind proudly and freely. 

And Bog did the _same_ with her. 

With Bog, Marianne wasn’t just happy, she was _happiness itself_.

If Dawn were to define it, she’d say it looked like Marianne had swallowed the sun, the moon and all the stars, and that their collective brilliance was struggling to be contained within her tiny body.  It lit her up from head to foot.  Her eyes glimmered like the river in spring.  Her smile was _unique_ ; it stretched across her face, but she kept pressing her lips together, as if to maintain some semblance of control over the pure magic churning inside. 

She _glowed_ with _joy_.     

Steady.     

 _Real_.

 _Love_.

This time, all Marianne could do was nod in answer to that one question, and it was more than enough for Dawn. 

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing for Dawn and giving her some subtle maturity she wasn't sure how to express. I hope you guys liked it. Leave kudos or comments or both! I love hearing from you in any way I can! 100 hits on this and I'll post another story!


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